Trappings
by S J Smith
Summary: While trying to locate a new Slayer, Faith and Buffy run into someone familiar they don't even know.


TRAPPINGS

S J Smith

Rated: R for language

Disclaimer: Am not, nor have ever been, Joss Whedon.

For Connorswhip...and other things.  

A.N.:  I know this wasn't exactly what I was supposed to be writing but I combined two challenges into one – the Secret Santa at White Flag and the Lyric Wheel.  I'm not sure if I did either well but…you never know, another story might come out of both requests at a later date.   

* * *

"They laughed at me."

The petulance in Tony's voice grated in her ears and Monica twitched her bare shoulders.  "So?  So they laughed.  Is it that big of a deal?"  She narrowed her eyes at him, big dumb hunk of beef that he was.  God, she was surprised Tony even realized that he'd been the butt of the joke.  Whatever the fuck it was.  

"They think they're hot.  Scotty," Tony sneered, his moustache rising as his teeth showed, "what kind of name is that for a girl?"

Monica didn't really care.  She didn't know Scotty beyond being able to point out the Goth girl in a crowd; Scotty ran in a different circle than she did.  The only intersection was Tony and that was because Scotty was in a few of Tony's classes.  "So, why does it matter?" she asked, folding her arms around herself.  It was colder than she'd expected it to be.  You could never tell with winters in Florida.  In less than twenty-four hours, the temperature could soar or drop.  Tonight, it was dropping.  "So she laughed.  No big deal, right?"

"She laughed at me.  That bitch."  Tony smoldered like a volcano and Monica almost wished she hadn't agreed to go out with him.  As far as she was concerned, his temper was notorious.  Not that he'd ever hit her; hell, he'd never even grabbed her.  But he didn't have nice eyes.  Dumb ones but they sure as hell weren't nice.  And when he got mad, things got broken.  Good thing Tony's daddy had the money to cover it.  

"Yeah?  What are you gonna do about it?" Monica asked, wondering why she was goading him like this. 

Dark eyes glittering in the moonlight, Tony turned, his forehead suddenly rumpling up.  Fangs sparkled, too fast, he moved so fucking fast as he bit her throat, suckling at it.  Monica drummed her heels against the car floor, opening her mouth to scream but it was like he'd swallowed her breath; she couldn't breathe, her head thumped, she heard something like a cat's wail fading in the night and then she heard nothing else. 

Tony dropped the girl back against the car seat, licking his fangs clean.  "I'm gonna do just like that," he said, smirking at Monica's body.  

  


* * *

Stephen Nealey didn't sleep much.  He remembered his mother complaining that as a baby, he'd been too active; hated being put down for the night.  Even now, Stephen only averaged about four hours of sleep a night.  His dorm mates, Jamie and Colin, referred to him as 'the vampire' and gave him all kinds of hell if he woke them up.  Usually, he didn't.  He was, as his sister Beth called him, a sneaky bastard and despite the fact that there was a curfew on the kids who stayed in the dorms, he'd already figured out a few ways around it.  Not that he was sharing; most people couldn't keep up with his 007 moves.  Stephen only wished the moves meant he was getting as much sex as Bond.  Since he and Tracy broke up a week after graduating from high school, he hadn't had a steady girlfriend.  Not that there weren't plenty of beauties around Flagler College; God, with the amount of feminine skin bared here in the name of the all-important tan (and hang skin cancer), most guys were perpetual hard-ons.  

Not that he thought a girl would be that great of an idea right now.  Stephen sat up in bed, scrubbing at his hair so it hung over his eyes.  The dreams were back.  At least he didn't wake up screaming but he knew there was no way he was going back to sleep now.  Not after the fire falling from the sky and the horned demon like Darkness from that stupid unicorn movie.  He could still see the eyes of the monster watching him and Tracy, except the girl with him never really was Tracy.  For one thing, her skin was too light; too softly caramel.  And she was small; nearly his height and Tracy was taller than he was.  Tracy once found him sketching his caramel girl and didn't spoken to him for a week, no matter what he did to try to explain.

Stephen sighed and slid out of bed, dressing quickly.  Might as well get started for the day.  There was a red haze in the air outside the window.  Dawn was approaching.  If he hurried, he might be in time to eat breakfast with Dex and Scotty and there were few better things in his eyes than sharing a meal with a pair of attractive women.   Smiling briefly, he picked his way across the piles of clothes and books and CD's, scooping up his backpack and cell phone on the way out the door.             

* * *

The water was an incredible shade of green, sort of like the Depression glass Faith remembered her neighbor, Mrs. Roth, owning back in Boston when she was a kid. Long, slow waves, with only a hint of curl to them, rolled onto the impossibly white beach, looking like some scene out of an Elvis movie.  Faith shook back her hair, shoving her hands into the back pockets of her jeans, her eyes narrowed against the brilliance of the day.  

"Wow," B said beside her, cupping her hands around her eyes.  "This is...bright."

"No shit," Faith said, blinking.  She glanced at her sister Slayer.  "Don't suppose we can camp out here for a few days after we find that girl."  She said it with a slow smile, cocking her hip so it bumped B's.   

"We'll find her," B said in what was meant to be a firm voice but sounded a little reedy.  "I mean, we've got the whole Christmas holiday to look forward to."

  


"In England."

"With, you know, flaming pudding."

"And goose."

"And those funny cracker things, which sounds wrong, you know, fireworks at the table."  B took a swipe at her hair, trying to control it and gave it up as a bad job.

"And Boxing Day," Faith said.  

B's nose scrunched up.  "Boxing Day."  They exchanged a long look.  "You don't think they actually box, do you?  That sounds pretty violent for this time of year."

Faith shrugged.  "Maybe it's left over from some war or other." 

They broke each other's gaze to stare out at the green, green water. 

"I suppose we should look for her," B said, folding her arms.   

Faith dug her toes deeper into the damp sand.  "Yeah."

The waves kept rolling in. 

* * *

Friday nights usually meant the same for college students everywhere - a chance to cut loose and drink heavily.  Party like it was going out of style, at least until the following weekend.  The fact that it was getting close to the Christmas holidays meant some of the partying was particularly intense.  With nearly six weeks off after the last test ended, kids were blowing out everywhere.

The Milltop was no exception to that rule.  The second-story bar boasted live music and cold beer, not necessarily in that order, and while the bartenders didn't turn a blind eye to underaged drinking, they did admire fake i.d.'s.  The worst of the species were on display behind the bar.  The best did what they were paid for and garnered their owners alcohol.

Stephen's i.d. was as fake as his British accent but was one of the good ones.  Scooping up three drinks, he cut across the small floor to the table two of his friends occupied.  Setting the Bass down in front of Dex and the rum and coke in front of Daniel, Stephen dropped into his own chair and guzzled the Icehouse.  "Man, am I glad finals are over."  

Dex sipped at her Bass.  "What did you think of the Psych test?" she asked, licking at the foam clinging to her upper lip.

  


Dragging his eyes away from her tongue, Stephen shrugged.  "It was okay."  He gestured with his mug towards the stage, where a young woman adjusted her mike to take into account her height, or lack thereof.  "Scotty said Dr. Coffin didn't surprise anyone with his tests.  She was right."  

"Scotty's better at surprising than being surprised," Daniel said, leaning back into his chair.  He toyed with his glass, spinning it around.  

"Voice of experience?" Stephen asked, leering playfully.  

"I was in that class with her.  I remember when she dumped her Tarot deck on her desk during class when Coffin was talking about parapsychology."  Dan's teeth, startlingly white, flashed beneath his dark moustache.  "Coffin was impressed.  Asked her to coffee."

"Eww."  Dex wrinkled her nose and shoved her mass of curly hair back over her shoulders.  "That just gives me the heebs."  

"You can guess how Scotty felt," Daniel said.

Stephen glanced at the stage and Scotty, who was reading the play list and nodding at whatever Mark, the bass guitarist, was saying.  "She didn't tear him up?"

"Nah."  His smile a mixture of amusement and pride, Daniel said, "You know Scotty."

"Predictable only in her unpredictablilty."  Dex grinned, dimples popping.  

Stephen waited for a few seconds before leaning over the table.  "So, what happened?"

"She giggled, pointed at me and said," Dan's voice raised and cracked in a falsetto, "'Oh, Doctor Coffin, I _couldn't_ do that, what would my _boyfriend_ think?'" He took a drink. 

"They weren't dating then," Dex said, filling in the gap for Stephen.

"She was just using me like a side of beef." 

Dex leered at Daniel, who was shaking his head ruefully.  "Like you didn't enjoy it."  

"At least Mignon didn't mind."  

"Who's Mignon?" Stephen glanced from one to the other.

"My ex."  Daniel wriggled his glass, making the ice clink together.  "She was the one who told me that Scotty and me," he shot his girlfriend a look, "made a cute couple."

"And, since Mignon knew she was gonna go to New York after that semester, she yenta'd Scotty and Dan together," Dex finished.  "Now that's a good girlfriend.  Takes care of her man and her bud at the same time."

"Hey, me and Mignon weren't tight," Daniel protested gently.  "She was dating Tommy, too."

Tommy was Daniel's brother.  Stephen had met him once.  "Didn't that make it a little weird?" he asked, cautiously.  "For you, I mean.  Knowing your girlfriend's picked out someone else for you to date?"

Daniel shrugged.  "At least I liked Scotty already."

A drumbeat caught their attention and they turned their attention to the stage.  Mark smiled at everyone, winking casually at Dex.  "Happy holidays!" he said, "welcome to the Milltop.  We wanna get the evening started with something to get your juices flowing."  Chuck slid a few  notes from his guitar, Matthew, the drummer, pounding lightly in the background.  "Some of you out there know we usually start with something rockin'.  Well, we'l just keep that tradition, okay?."  He nodded at Scotty who launched into "Rockin' Round the Christmas Tree".  

The music overwhelmed the bar.  At least the musicians were on the porch tonight; the Florida weather was cooperating by still being comfortable, if not quite warm.  Stephen dropped his feet onto the rails of Dex's chair and let the sounds wash over him.  He wasn't quite sure how he'd wound up in Florida from California but he'd decided he liked it here, in the nation's oldest city.  Right across the road from the Milltop was the Castillo de San Marcos, the first fort built in the United States.  If he craned his neck and squinted, he could just see the light from the  Ponce de Leon lighthouse, over on Anastasia Island.  And, from what Dex said, her parents had hung out in the Milltop when they'd gone to Flagler College, over two decades ago.  

History.  It was everywhere around him here, a very tactile reminder that the more things changed, the more they stayed the same.  Flagler College was partially housed in the old Ponce de Leon Hotel, a great structure that resembled a Moorish castle, complete with guard towers and a porticullis that, until semi-recently, could still be raised and lowered.  Built in the 1800's by Henry Flagler, one of the east-coast railroad barons, the Ponce de Leon was only one of three hotels Flagler had owned in the area.  He designed two of them, the Alcazar and the Ponce; both crowning achievements of their time and still masterpieces today but Flagler didn't stop there, designing a church and houses before turning his attention still farther south along the Florida coastline.  St. Augustine had benefitted from Flagler's attention; had become something of a mecca during its heyday in the 1800's.  It still had one of the most peculiar skylines Stephen had ever seen.  Still, he'd grown to love this place.  Its sense of permanence appealed to him in ways he couldn't explain.  

  


Dex and Scotty had something to do with that, he knew.  The two girls, well, women, he amended with a mental eye roll, had picked him out of the freshman horde to be theirs.  Or something.  He wasn't quite sure how that had worked out, he was just glad they had.  A study in opposites, Noeldechen Thibideaux was a tall, classic beauty with warm hazel eyes behind a pair of delicate glasses.  Her curly hair tumbled in an artful mess around her and her figure was enough to stop a dead man in his tracks.  A local girl, Dex's family had lived in Florida for three generations and she was the second generation to attend Flagler.  Named for her mother, Jaime Scott Tevault was the first in her family to attend college.  Hair that seemed as if she'd taken grooming tips from a Muppet, neon green eyes outlined in khol, Scotty looked as if she'd been who Neal Gaimon based the character Death off of in the _Sandman _comics.  The word 'eclectic' had been coined for Scotty.  Stephen usually kept to himself the words that described Dex.  Not that she would've minded; she and Mark seemed to have a pretty open relationship.  Just it was easier that way.  

Dex rose to her feet, towering over both Stephen and Dan.  At least he wasn't the only short man in the group, Stephen thought to himself.  "I'm getting another beer," she nearly shouted over the din.  "Want anything?"

Daniel tapped his glass, showing that he was still good.  Stephen nodded, fishing in his pocket for some bills.  Dex waved it off with grin, sliding between the crowd to make her way to the bar.  Stephen couldn't help himself, he watched her go, eyes lingering on her rolling ass.  He watched as she made it to the bar, leaning against the structure and still turned slightly to keep an eye on the floor. A white t-shirt blocked his vision and Stephen started to scowl when he noticed the nice rack encased in the shirt.  Grinning slightly in appreciation, he settled himself to watch as the brunette, a blonde in her wake, strolled across the bar.

* * *

Faith leaned back into B, her mouth close to the blonde's ear.  "You sure this is the place?" she asked.  Not that she minded, it seemed like a great little bar.  Packed to the limits, sure, but it was Friday night.  

B nodded.  "Willow's whatchamacallit pointed us here."  She patted the pocket of her jacket gingerly.  "I don't want to take it out inside the bar."

Good point, Faith thought.  Even something as tiny as the compass thingy Willow'd mojo'ed for them before they crossed the pond would probably stand out.  Still, she wasn't sure what else they could do.  If they waited 'til tomorrow, there was a good chance that whoever was the Slayer in this mass could be gone.  This was a college town and finals were over.  Kids would be leaving town like rats off a ship and they could miss their contact.  

"The band's pretty good," she hollered into B's ear. B nodded though her eyes swept the crowd, lingering on each young woman in the bar.  Faith mentally shook her head.  If B wanted to be taken for a dyke, that was fine by her.  "You wanna drink?" 

"We're supposed to be working," B said back absently. 

"We gotta blend, B," Faith said.  "I'll be back."  Pushing her way to the bar, Faith ordered herself a beer.  Icehouse on tap, great place.  She got B a coke and paid, making her way back towards the blonde.  B's perpetually worried expression was in place.  "Your face is gonna freeze that way," Faith taunted under her breath before shoving the glass into B's hand.  

"What?"

"Just telling that guy to get outta my way," Faith covered smoothly, taking a long swallow of her beer.  Yeah.  That's how beer should taste, not like that crap Giles drank.  Icy, with a good head on it, tasting of hops and heaven.  She glanced around the bar.  Crowded, smoky and loud; the way she liked it.  God, she could have some fun here.  "So, who do you think our girl is?"

B took a sip at her drink and studied the crowd.  "Could be anyone," she said.  Her shoulders twitched in annoyance.  Faith rolled her eyes.  B so needed to get laid.  Of course, with her fascination with vamps, maybe that wasn't the best of ideas.  She glanced around the bar herself, under the pretense of trying to pick out the Slayer in the group.  None of the girls attracted her attention particularly though there were some nice male specimens in the bunch.  And the band was kicking, sliding from classic rock to something that'd make Thorogood stand up and take notice.  Faith sighed mentally.  She really could like it here and if B'd get that stick outta her ass, she might learn to enjoy it, too.  But this type of bar wasn't B's type of place; mostly locals, by the look of the crowd, people old enough to give Giles a run for his money and kids from college and the band everybody knew.

And her hair crawled on the back of her neck and she jerked around, staring at the doorway. 

* * *

Dex loved Friday nights; loved getting together, watching her boyfriend and best friend playing in their band, loved booze and flirting and dancing; loved the way men's eyes followed her around.  She loved this city and her college and her pals; loved the offbeat relationship that Daniel and Scotty shared, loved little brother Stephen, though she'd never call him that to his face.  She loved knowing where she belonged, that this was her place and her world and it was all Good.  

She'd hated it when the dreams started.  

Bad enough they were nightmares, of a strange, sunlit town she didn't know, full of monsters and strangers and weird enough that Scotty, upon hearing them, thought they'd make some wild sci-fi show.  She hated the dreams that came on, sometimes the instant she closed her eyes.  She despised that they cut so deeply into her that some nights, she was afraid to go back to sleep afterwards.  

Dex really hated it when Scotty found the sunlit town listed in Yahoo! headlines: "Sunnydale, California, swallowed in freak sinkhole."  Dex knew that wasn't what happened and what she knew, Scotty knew, 'cause there wasn't any way she wasn't sharing this weirdness with Scotty, for whom weirdness was a daily occurance and something completely not of the ordinary.  But Scotty wasn't exactly normal, either; she had the Sight.  

And when they saw Stephen Nealey for the first time, they knew he was one of them.  

  


Neither could exactly put a finger on it, though it had been the basis for many hours of discussion. Scotty didn't think he felt quite right.  Dex remembered dreams of him covered in blood, carrying a sword and being thrown out of a window to land on top of an old car.  The fact that he was from California gave them both pause but he had nothing to do with Sunnydale.  Never even heard of the place, when they asked him.  Which, well, 'whew' was pretty much the word of the day but it didn't explain anything.  

Not how lightfooted he was.  How he heard absolutely fucking everything, no matter how much you guarded against it.  The fact that he just didn't seem to get hurt or even bruised.  His absolute fearlessness was beyond the average kid's belief of invulnerability.  He was nimble and quick and downright intimidating, despite the fact he only came up to her shoulder and was a thin as a reed.  Dex thought it was almost like the trappings of society had been laid over his slender form.  He didn't belong here, not really and she and Scotty agreed it would only be a matter of time before something ripped the pretty picture away from the real Dorian Gray.  Dex just hoped they weren't caught in the crossfire.

Warm breath tickled her neck and she glanced back and into Stephen's eyes.  They were lambent in their fury; cold blue fire as he stared past her to the doorway.  Daniel leaned forward, his broad hands resting lightly on the table.  "Damn.  And I thought we'd get to end the year without the presence of Tony Dubin and his boys."  

* * *

B's eyes narrowed slightly and Faith could see her back straighten justlikethat, body shifting into defense mode like a switch flipping on.  Faith's moves weren't quite as obvious - not that B's were - but they both had that look; predators.  And they were poaching on the territory of whatever the fuck just walked through the door.  

Mentally, Faith scowled.  She couldn't pick up on that signature; vampire, yeah, but what the fuck else?  All four of 'em dressed like a gang in matching blue jackets, emblazoned with the words "The Boys" in script on the right breast.  God, how frickin' obvious.  The leader was the biggest, sorta greasy-looking guy who's smile said he owned the bar and everyone in it. 

"Guess again," B muttered beside her, setting her glass down.  

Faith slithered off her stool as the band, not quite as oblivious as she would've thought, finished the song and waited for a few beats.  Big Greasy smiled and started for the band. 

B glanced at Faith.  "There's no room to fight in here," she said. 

"Don't I know it," Faith said, shrugging.  "Any ideas?"

Big Greasy was closing in on the band.  B didn't wait.  She jumped up on the table in front of her and leaped to the next and the one after it and dove on top of Big Greasy's back.  He went down with a thud and someone screamed.  Faith grinned.  Looked like she was gonna get that fight anyway.

* * *

It was like one of his nightmares.  

  


Hackles rose on the back of his neck and Stephen felt as if he was turning in slow motion.  Tony Dubin walked into the bar, his little band of psychos trailing behind like a pack of hyenas, giggling and tossing their heads.  Stephen sucked in a deep breath, his teeth clenching together, the scent sudden and strong over the yeasty smell of beer and the floral perfumes and that particular odor of ocean rising off the bay.  

He heard Daniel rising to his feet behind him, saw Tony's teeth baring in what could only be a smile even if it didn't have any mirth to it.  And then a blonde came leaping from a table and landed on Tony's back.  

"That was unexpected," Dan said as Tony reached back for the girl. 

* * *

The Milltop wasn't the type of place for bar fights, mostly because it was on the second story of a building, with only one staircase.  If someone got tossed out a window, it was a twenty-foot drop straight down, either onto a coquina road or a parking lot.  It wasn't very big, not a lot of room inside of it.  It would be easy for someone to get hurt.  Easier, maybe, for someone to get killed.  Faith tried to remember that when she took a swing at one of the boys in blue.  Norms filled the bar.  Getting them outta this mess alive was the most important thing.  

Blue Boy swung back, a handful of claws glittering in the air, catching the red and green lights crazily.  Faith ducked, knocking a little old lady to the floor.  God, this fight had to go somewhere that wasn't here, unless they all wanted to die.  

Faith shoved a chair into Blue Boy's legs, sending him flying at the bar.  

What a way to go. 

* * *

Tony managed to get hold of the girl's wrists, flinging her over his head.  She sailed towards the drum kit on what passed for a stage.  "Who the fuck are you?" he snarled as she bounced off the wall, landed on the drummer and somehow managed to get to her feet again.

Blondie grinned, a trickle of blood seeping out of the corner of her mouth.  She plucked a drumstick up and twirled it like a baton.  "Your worst nightmare."

* * *

Fuck nightmares.  Reality was worse.  Stephen shook his head, staring at Tony.  When the hell had he grown bumps on his forehead?  And those teeth?  

"God_dam_mit," Dex said in a low voice, hands fisted at her sides.  

  


He moved in front of her, had to, had to protect her.  She wasn't as strong as he was and Stephen slung his hair back again, something flashing in his head; fire, fire falling from the sky and a caramel girl, pressed against his back.  She wasn't real but neither were monsters and god, when did it all come apart?

The world slipped sideways, a sudden, erratic movement and it was as if he could see himself in a mirror, see the boy with the caramel girl; see himself slipping out in the morning to meet with Dex and Scotty for breakfast, see a cage and a beast and the taunts he made; see Dan slapping his shoulder when he hit triple bulls in darts; see a slim brunette throwing him back, her forearm under his chin.  The mirror cracked; the images multiplying; there were hundreds of them; his father's face, smiling proudly when they talked about what college he was attending; his father's face, blood running from two wounds on his crepey neck; his father's face, knife blade in his hand.  Screams sounded too familiar, not just from nightmares but from memories and he swung around heavily, seeing god, what was he seeing?  

A slim brunette bouncing up onto a chair, kicking an impossibly long leg into the face of a demon.  

Demon. 

Shit. 

Stephen's world flipped even more. 

* * *

There's something damned simple about a fight to the death with a demon and Faith was all for that.  Punch, kick, dodge, twist, parry, spin, _yeah! _thrust - god, sex was the only thing better than beating the crap out of monsters.  She couldn't really let loose here; too many people but they were trying to stampede the door.  Someone clocked one of the demons over the head with a bottle of booze, leaving a free ticket out of hell and the bar flies took it.  Good for them.  Better for her.  She leaped into the air, feeling like she could hang there forever like Neo but gravity still worked in this world and she landed on a table, feeling it shudder beneath her weight before she jumped again, dropping onto the bar as light as a freaking ballerina.  

Blue Boy chased after her, all but drooling for a rematch.  Not that she wasn't up for giving him one.  He bounced onto the bar and moved, a kick-punch-kick combo that coulda knocked her block off if she'd been there to let him hit her.  Faith rode it out, smile plastered on her face.  This was what she was Called for and hell if she didn't have fun with it.  She spun in the air, snapping her second leg out, feeling her boot connect with Blue Boy's chin.  There was an audible snap and he went down behind the bar while she landed.  

Faith grinned at him in triumph, reaching down to grab a bottle and downing a gulp of beer.  "All right," she shouted, "who's next?"

* * *

  


Stephen shuddered, staring at what used to be Tony Dubin.  Demon.  The word slithered through his brain, took up lodgings.  He knew what demons were good for, a part of him did, at any rate; they were good for killing; they were born to die at his hands.  He sprang forward, hands catching hold of Tony's jacket, spinning the bigger man - _demon_ - around.  "Why don't you pick on someone your own size," Stephen sneered.

Tony exhaled in a fetid breath, the corners of his mouth curling up.  "It's the shrimp," he said, lisping a little around his teeth.  "This ain't your battle, kid."

Stephen's punch rocked the demon back, sending him sprawling into a table.  His knuckles stung just a little as he stalked closer to Tony.  "I'm making it mine."

* * *

Buffy stared at the kid, not much taller than her and skinnier than Willow, if that could be possible, knocking down a demon.  Her spidey-sense screamed at her, all the yellow alerts switching to red in her head.  What had she and Faith walked into the middle of, here?  Pushing her way out of the bandstand, Buffy shot forward, drumstick in hand.  As a stake, it was pretty flimsy but it would do.  The important thing was wood-meet-heart and she could do that.  If the kid got outta her way.  She latched onto his shoulder, intending to spin him out of the way and he knocked her backwards without even looking.

She landed on top of one of the patrons, knocking the wind out of both of them.  Buffy rolled away first, shaking her hair out of her eyes and watching in surprise as the kid grabbed a chair and smashed it over the vampire's head.  He kept hold of the flinders, a sneer firmly in place as he stabbed it down into the vampire's heart.  

"Leave my friends alone," he snarled as the vampire screamed and ashed.  

"Oh, God," a tall woman said beside Buffy.  "This wasn't supposed to happen this way."

"Looks like it is," Buffy said dryly, noticing the other two demons.  She cocked her head as the pair joined hands, tendrils suddenly shooting out of their arms.  "What the -?"

"This is not good," the man Buffy had landed on said.  

The pair of demons shot out matching forked tongues, their eyes glowing yellow.  

Faith dropped off the bar, taken aback.  "Fuck me."

"Later," Buffy said, distracted, "first we kill the demons.  Demon."  She threw a hand at the mighty morphing pair.    

"Any ideas on how?" Faith asked.

Scrawny Boy tossed back his hair, shoulders squared, hands a little out from his side.  "Fire."

Three or four voices repeated, in exactly the same tone of voice, "Fire?"

  


Flipping a scowl at them over his shoulder, Scrawny Boy grabbed a bottle of beer and broke the neck, chucking it at the demon.  "Oh, fire," the dark-haired man Buffy had fallen into said, flinging drink glasses.  Scrawny Boy grabbed a lighter left on a table and flicked it to life.  The demon snarled from both its faces, its voice sounding like a bad stereo system as it - they - shouted, "Weak, kid, really weak."

The kid threw the lighter and the liquor caught fire, swarming up the demons' conjoining bodies.  The monster laughed, starting forward, flames dripping off its body.   

"Anybody got any better ideas?" Faith asked.

Buffy bit her lower lip.  The only exit blocked by demon flambe, it wasn't gonna be easy to escape.  Especially since the Milltop seemed destined to go up in cheery Christmas flames.  "Staying in England?"

"Too late for that," Faith growled.

The tall brunette grabbed for the kid as he started forward.  "You're not killing yourself." 

He jerked free, fixing her with a blue glare.  "This is what I do."

Faith's jaw dropped.  "Oh my god."

"What?" Buffy asked.

"Connor?"

The kid stared at her, blinking.  His confusion cleared slightly and he shook his head.  "I-I know you...Faith?"

"Yeah, kid, what're you doin' in Florida?"

"Reminisce later," Buffy said firmly, pushing between the pair.  "Get rid of flamey demon, first."  She picked up a table and swung it, the legs connecting with the demon's gut.  The table stuck its body.   Laughter cut off abruptly and it grabbed for her head, dripping goo like blue wax onto her shoulders.

"That's not right," the brunette said.  

"Water," the kid said suddenly. 

"Yeah," Faith agreed, her head whipping around, staring towards the bay. 

"Not that way."  Buffy lunged for the bar, vaulting over it, grabbing the seltzer hose.  It wasn't much but she took aim and let the water fly.  

  


The demon screeched, a cacophony that blasted at their ears.  Gooey arm reaching for her, Buffy shot a steady stream of water at the demon's hand, the drops solidifying as the water touched it.  It wasn't enough, no where near enough, the small stream that shot out of the nozzle but Faith joined her behind the counter, grabbing seltzer bottles and tossing them out.   

The demon screeched in symphony, the sound rocking the walls and it charged the stairs.  The kid rushed after it, Faith and Buffy on his heels.  Blue and red lights flashed off buildings, an alert the cops were on their way.  The four lane road separated them from the bay; if the demon chose another direction, it could get lost in the maze that was Old Town.  

The kid bounced in and out of the demon's reach like a human pinball, blue goo coating his clothes and skin.  His hair stuck straight up where the stuff hardened.  He couldn't get close enough to do any damage and the table still rode low in the demon's gut.  If he got stuck, Buffy wasn't sure they'd be able to pull him out.  

A wail rose through the air heralding the approach of a fire truck.  Faith and Buffy exchanged glances but it wouldn't help if the truck didn't get here before they could corral the demon.  And it wasn't looking like it wanted to stick around.  

The brunette fired seltzer in its face, freezing the waxy substance.  "Gotcha!" she shouted, shoving her glasses up her nose with her wrist.  A hand swept out, grabbing her and pulling her in.  "Oh, shit!"

"Dex!"  Connor lunged in, grabbing her wrists, pulling as hard as he could.  

The demon's laugh was stilted, half of its face frozen in one place.  "Mine now, kid."

"Think again."  Faith grinned cockily, snapping a metal spear from a pillar of stone.  She threw it to Buffy, standing next to a fire hydrant.  Buffy smashed the point into the bolt.  It held.

"Damn it!"  Buffy raised the spear again as the demon started to lumber away, the brunette and the kid coated in blue. 

Faith lunged in its way, smile still firmly in place.  "You aren't leaving the party so soon, are you?  The fun's just starting."

"Faith, move," Connor said urgently, fighting to free himself and Dex.  Half of her body had been absorbed by the demon, only one eye and the left side of her face visible.  He couldn't let her die, he couldn't let her go. 

A clang echoed along the narrow street and water gushed out suddenly, a fountain of spray.  The demon hissed in horror, feet already hardening.  

"My god, it's the T-2000," one of the band members said as the demon tried to take another step and started cracking.

  


Faith took a running leap, striking the demon in the face.  Its face crumbled on impact, throwing it off balance and down into the stream of water.  Soaked to the skin, B grabbed one of its arms, hauling it towards the fire hydrant.  Faith grabbed the other arm and they doused the demon, water spilling over its viscous body; hardening it right up.  They both kicked at the same time, pieces of blue flying everywhere, the body shattering and spilling Connor and the girl straight to the ground.

The brunette shuddered, grabbing Connor and holding on tight.  His arms came around her almost hesitantly and he looked over her shoulder, meeting Faith's eyes.

* * *

The sun porch was cold, too many drafty windows but as Scotty pointed out, the only place where everyone could drip and dry and not ruin the furniture in the rest of the rent house.  She'd passed out towels as soon as they'd arrived, pointing out bathrooms and digging through hers and Dex's closets for dry clothing for wet people to wear.

Buffy rubbed a towel over her hair.  Fireplace and sun porch seemed like a good idea, she thought, watching the kid stoke the flames.  He turned, tossing his damp hair out of his face and meeting her stare.  "You're a Slayer," he said, "like Faith."

She nodded.  "And like your friend Dex."

That gave him a little pause but he went on.  "You're the one Faith went to help when she left Los Angeles."

Another nod, though Buffy started to frown.  Faith hadn't mentioned this kid, had she?  Why would Angel have him on his team?  He looked way too young to be out there fighting, even if he did pull his own weight against the wax monster.  

Folding his arms over his slightly too large Flagler College sweatshirt, he looked down at her, cool blue eyes appraising.  "You sent him to hell, didn't you."

Her spine straightened with an almost audible snap.  "Who are you."

He smiled but there was no joy in it.  "I thought I was Stephen."  His gaze turned from her, taking in the darkened room, the fire on the hearth.  Buffy shivered in spite of herself.  "Now I'm not even that."

"So, who does that make you?" she asked, a tendril of something sliding down her spine like a drop of icy water.       

"Connor."  Faith entered the room, her dark hair clinging damply to her neck.  "B, he's Angel's kid."  If she'd been kicked in the gut, it might've felt like this.  Faith dropped on the rattan couch next to her.  "I woulda told you earlier, B," she said, eyeing the kid, "but...I didn't remember him 'til I saw him."

  


Connor's lip curled up and Buffy was reminded, inexplicably, of Angel when he was angry.  They looked nothing alike; Angel was all height and shoulders and dark eyes and hair and this kid was whip cord and sky-blue and delicate except she'd seen him fight.  And how could Angel have a kid in college and never tell her?  How could he even have a kid when he was a vampire?  "This is too much," she muttered, falling back into the couch.  

"So, Connor, how'd you wind up here anyway?"  Faith's gesture took in not just the room and the shirt he wore, but the whole town.

"Angel sent me here," the kid said, the words couched in fury, "he used magic."  The word was spat out like poison.  "Made me into someone else."  His large hands, oh, Buffy thought, she could see Angel in those hands, tore at the hem of his shirt.  "Made me normal."  His face twisted as he stared down at himself.  "Except I'm not."  He spoke through clenched teeth.  "I'm not Stephen Nealey anymore."  

Dex stepped into the room, arms wrapped around herself for warmth.  She paused in front of the fire, her back to it, shivering.  "No, nothing's the same any more."  

Connor flicked his eyes towards her, his expression softening.  "Your lips are turning blue."

She rubbed at them.  "Leftover goo, I think."  

"You're a Slayer," Buffy said, getting to her feet and easing cautiously past Connor.  She went to the taller girl.  "It's...it's a Calling.  Super strong, super fast, able to leap out of tall buildings in a single bound."

Faith said, "Able to kick ass and take names."

Dex frowned.  "What if I don't want it?"  

"I beg your pardon?"  Buffy found herself taking a step back in surprise.

Dex shook her head, dark hair trailing over her shoulders.  "I'm not a superhero type of gal," she said, spreading her hands.  "I'm Dex.  I want to write TV scripts, not live them.  Look," she folded her arms around herself again, "the dreams were bad enough.  The reality?"  Dex shuddered.  "So not fun."

"I didn't want it, either," Buffy said slowly, reaching back into her memories.  "I...I was a cheerleader."  She pointed at Faith before she could open her mouth.  "Superficial and only thinking of what my next boyfriend would be like.  And then," she touched the nearer of Dex's hands, "I was Called and I found out I had a purpose."

"To kill vampires," Connor said, with a snort.

  


"To keep people safe," Buffy said, ignoring him.  "And yeah, that means killing vampires and fighting demons and not really being able to have a day job but that's me, that's not you."

"I don't have a day job," Faith pointed out, tossing her feet up on the coffee table.  

"You're not helping," Buffy said sweetly through clenched teeth.  "All I'm saying is, you should come to England with us; meet the other Slayers."

Scotty slithered into the room, somehow balancing a tray full of steaming mugs.  "Meet other whats?" she asked, jerking her chin at Faith's feet.  

"Slayers," Faith said, tucking her feet under the table and helping Scotty set the tray down. 

Scotty took one of the mugs and wrapped her fingers around it for warmth.  "Demon slayers?"

"Vampire Slayers," Faith said, "but demons get mixed up in it, too."  She took a mug for herself, sipping at the steaming liquid.  "This is good."

"Mulled cider," Scotty said absently.  "And Dex is one of these Slayers?"

"Apparently so," Dex said, her voice dry.  "God, this is not what I wanted for my life."

"You don't have to decide now," Buffy said.

"Isn't that a relief," the tall brunette muttered.  "Just what I wanted for Christmas, a new wrinkle in my life."

"So, you have like a bat signal or something?" Scotty asked. 

Faith rolled her eyes, getting to her feet.  "Look.  You don't have to stick around for this.  It doesn't really concern you."

"Dex is my friend," she said, giving Faith a pitying look.  

"It isn't what I wanted, either," Connor said with a gusty sigh, "but that's the way it is, Dex."

"You're not a Slayer," she said, eyeing him, "are you?"

"It would explain a lot," Scotty mumbled and Buffy shot her a glance.

"I'm the son of two vampires," he said, spreading his arms wide.  "Demon spawn, raised in hell."  

"One of the good guys," Scotty said, testing.  

"Better than my father, at any rate," Connor said.

  


"Let's not get into that right now," Buffy said hastily.  "But vampires are real, demons are real," her voice trailed off as she noticed both girls nodding.  

"Knew that," Scotty said, almost mournfully, though there was a hint of a smile on her face.     

"Tonight just hammered it home," Dex said, running her hands over her hair, her fingers getting caught in tangles.  "Damn it."  

"You knew?  Wicked cool," Faith said.  

"You live in the nation's oldest city, you see things," Dex said to her dryly.  "So.  All right."  She straightened her shoulders.  "I'm a vampire Slayer.  You want me to drop school and go to England, on your say so."  

"Well..." Buffy shrugged.  

"Pretty much," Faith said.   

"Your parents are gonna freak," Scotty said.

"Shut up.  So, I go...learn the secret handshake, whatever, then what?  Or is my life all planned out for me, now that I'm a Slayer?"

"Well," Buffy said hesitantly, "sort of but not really.  Things have really changed lately in regards to the Slayers."

"Yeah, there used to be just the Chosen One," Faith piped up, "now there's the Chosen...Thousand."  When Dex stared at her, she grinned, opening her hands. "Or so."        

"Aaaaand...if there's so many Slayers, why am I needed at all?"

"You never know what's gonna happen," Buffy said grimly.  "There's a Hellmouth in Cleveland that needs tending.  And demons who want to take over the world.  Listen, there's a handbook...or will be, when they finish writing it, and even if you don't really want to be part of this, you are.  It's your choice.  But," her voice warmed, "it's a good fight.  It's the good fight.  If you, if we hadn't been there tonight, people would've gotten hurt.  Maybe killed.  And we're fighting for that, to keep people, regular people, safe."

"And how exactly do you play into this?"  Dex focused on Connor.

"I wish I knew."  

"Fate," Faith said, laying a hand on his shoulder and squeezing it.  "And prophecies."

"More magic," he growled.

  


"Some of the magic's good, right?  I mean, got you your Dad back."

Connor snorted.  "And my life torn to shreds."

Dex chewed her lower lip.  Scotty settled back into the couch, sipping her cider.  Buffy rubbed her temples with her fingertips, hoping to stave off the headache that was building.  "Look.  I'm not saying this is the best thing in the world," she said.  "I can't tell you how many times I wished I wasn't the Slayer.  My life has been pretty much one big freakshow since I was Called."  She walked to the table, picking up a mug and letting the scent of the cider and spices wash over her.  "But it's a chance to do real good, if you want to take it."  

"You sound like him," Connor muttered.

"There's a reason for that," Faith replied.  

"If I do this," Dex said hesitantly, "if I go talk to the others, will I be able to come home afterwards?"

"Sure," Faith said, stepping around Connor.  "We're not putting you in chains or anything.  It's your call."

"You just need to be aware of your powers," Buffy said.  "And it'd be nice for you if you got some training in what to expect."

Dex sighed, her shoulders slumping.  "Can I think this over?  I mean, my parents want me home for Christmas."

"Sure," Buffy said softly, staring at Connor beyond Faith's shoulder.  "Everyone wants to be home for Christmas."

* * *

The Orlando International Airport was hopping, but of course, it was the season for that.  Faith took a slow spin, checking out the skylight; the three-d scuplture of Shamu the killer whale on one of the walls, the kid standing there, staring at her, sullen expression etched on his face.  "I like flying," she said. 

"It seems wrong," Connor muttered, swiping at his hair.  "Man shouldn't fly."

"Tell that to the Wright brothers," Buffy said, coming up behind them.  

"Didja get Dex off all right?" Faith asked.

  


"Yeah.  In some ungodly amount of hours, she'll be in Giles' hands.  Um.  Not exactly that way," she added, at Connor's frown.  Buffy tilted her head back, checking the bank of monitors, trying to change the subject.  "Which one's our flight?"

"Gate A-20," Faith said, picking up her carry on bag.  "You sure you want to do this, B?"

"Me?"  Buffy eyed them both.  "All I have to do is deal with two ex-boyfriends who want to kill each other to prove themselves to me."

"I'll help them," Connor said darkly.

"Oh, no," Faith said, "we're taking bets on who wins."  She poked him in the ribs.  "You stay outta this one."

He snorted.  "I'm sure Angel would like that."

"He's got a lot more history with Spike than he does you, kid," Faith said.  "In more ways than one."

"And I'm just going to add fuel to the fire," Buffy said, sighing tiredly.  "But you aren't the only one who has stuff to settle, Connor." 

"He didn't change your whole life, Buffy," Connor snapped. 

She reared back slightly.  "Maybe not the same way he did yours," she said, "but yeah, he did."  

"C'mon, guys," Faith said, grabbing both of their arms and shaking them.  "This is Angel we're talking about.  'I know what's best for everyone' guy, remember?  It's kinda the way he shows he cares, you know?  Running interference, trying to smooth the path.  It's what he does."

"I'm old enough to make my own decisions," Connor said, though his face clouded over as he said it, another memory obviously surfacing.  

"Not in his eyes," Buffy said, patting his shoulder awkwardly.  "I don't think he's ever going to think any of us is old enough." 

"So it's up to us to show him we're grown ups," Faith said, shouldering her bag.

A smile hovered over Connor's face.  "I'm not sure he's going to survive."

"Don't look so happy about that," Buffy said warningly.  

 He sobered, meeting her eyes.  "With the three of us there, there's nowhere left to hide."

"Does he have a reason to?" Faith asked, tossing her head.  

  


Connor liked the way the sunshine picked up the ruddy highlights in her hair.  Cordy, he thought, a pang cutting through him.  Another thing his father had taken away; Stephen's caramel girl was the first woman Connor had loved.  "We'll see," he said softly, letting Faith take his arm.  "We'll see."

* * *

(Lyrics from Blacknaughtyevil) 

ADVANCE \d4Sing For Absolution

Lyrics by Muse 

lips are turning blue ***

a kiss that can't renew 

I only dream of you 

my beautiful 

tiptoe to your moon/room ? 

a starlight in the gloom

I only dream of you and you never knew 

sing for absolution 

I will be singing falling from your grace 

there's nowhere left to hide ***

in no one to confide 

the truth runs deep inside 

and will never die 

lips are turning blue 

a kiss that can't renew 

I only dream of you 

my beautiful 

sing for absolution 

I will be singing 

falling from your grace 

sing for absolution 

I will be singing 

falling from your grace 

I won't remain unrectified 

and our souls won't be absolved 


End file.
